CHORUS OF ROMAN SOLDIERS

Shall ever civil bore gnaw and devour our state? shall never we this blade, our blood hath bloody made, lay down? these arms down lay as robes we wear always? but as from age to age. so pass from rage to rage? Our hands shall we not rest to both in our own breast? and shall thick in each land our wretched trophies stand, to tell posterity, what mad Impiety our stony stomachs led against the place us bred? Then still must heaven view the plagues that us pursue. and every where descry Heaps of us scattered lie, making the stranger plains fat with our bleeding reins, proud that on them their graven so many legious have. And with out fleshes still Neptune his fish fill and drunk with blood from blue the sea take blushing hue: as juice of Tyrian shell, when clarified well to wool of finest fields a purple gloss it yields. But since the rule of Room, to one men hand is come, who governs without mate his now united state, late jointly ruled by three envying mutually, whose triple yoke much woe on Latins necks did throw: I hope the cause of jar, and of this bloody war, and deadly discord gone by what we last have done: our banks shall cherish now the branchy pale-hewed bow of Olive, Pallas praise, in stead of barren bays. And that his temple door, which bloody Mars before held open, now at last old Janus shall make fast: and rust the sword consume, and spoiled of waving plume, The useless morion shall on crook hang by the wall. At least if war return It shall not here sojourn, to kill us with those arms were forged for others harms: but have their points addressed, against the Germans breast, The Parthians feigned flight, the Biscaines martial might. Old Memory does there painted on forehead wear our Father's praise: thence torn our triumphs bays have worn: thereby our matchless Room whilom of Shepherds come raised to this greatness stands, the Queen of foreign lands. Which now even seems to face the heavens, her glories place: nought resting under skies that dares affront her eyes. So that she needs but fear the weapons Jove does bear, who angry at one blow may her quite overthrown.